


Recruiter

by annamator



Series: Saint Canard Cryptids [1]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Divorce, Gore, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Past Relationship(s), Spies & Secret Agents, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annamator/pseuds/annamator
Summary: “I’ve trained some select recruits before. FOWL’s training process is not unfamiliar to me,” Vincent said.“I have no earthly idea what’s possessed you, but if you want to take on that loose cannon, be my guest,” Heron replied.
Relationships: Steelbeak (Disney)/Original Character(s)
Series: Saint Canard Cryptids [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647364
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Recruiter

Saint Canard prison was a lot colder than Vincent had expected. Admittedly, it wasn’t the first time he had been in a place like this. His employers were no strangers when it came to acquiring sinister and dangerous agents from the most unsavory of places. Prisons were often the perfect place to pick from. They preyed on the weak and desperate. Typically, they sought out prisons to employ their lower Egghead ranks. 

So when the highly-esteemed recruiter Vincent Kapoor had gotten a call from Agent Black Heron to acquire a very specific cell inhabitant as a new agent, it intrigued him. He hadn’t been given details as to why Heron required this prisoner’s specific skill set, but he rarely did. His job was to simply go in, read the target and get them to join FOWL under any circumstances. Vincent’s rate was currently at 70-85% in terms of success. And just being in this prison increased that rate by a very large margin.

There was no way he was going to fail.

After the guards checked the peafowl through security, they led him to the visitation center. It was a large area occupied by tables where prisoners and visitors could speak face-to-face. While he was being escorted to his designated table, Vincent could feel most of the eyes in the room settle on him. Being an especially colorful and tall bird garnered him a lot of attention. It didn’t help that he was impeccably well-dressed in a dark green suit and classic oxford shoes. He sat down, maneuvering his long green tail so it was inches off the floor and crossed his legs in patience. 

Vincent ignored the stares in favor of the file he had been allowed to take inside. He brushed his long blue feathers behind his shoulder so they wouldn’t distract him. The target didn’t have a name, only a prison number, a small vague descriptor of the charges (illegal gambling, resisting arrest, police harassment...) and a medical report. Vincent had worked with less information before. 

From his peripheral vision, Vincent saw a prison guard escorting a large bird in an ill fitting orange jumpsuit. The prisoner hobbled along, the chains from the restraints scraping the floor. Then the sound stopped. 

“Make it quick,” the guard told them before they walked away. 

Vincent finally looked up from his papers and observed the prisoner. The large rooster was broad in the shoulders, his green tail stood tall behind him and his yellow eyes were piercing. Most notably, a bloodied mask covered his face where a beak would have been. This surprised Vincent, but it certainly didn’t deter him. 

“Lawya?” The prisoner asked, refusing to sit down. 

Vincent was surprised the rooster could still speak. “Not quite,” he replied in his British tone, “though I can be your one way ticket out of here, if you so choose. My name is Vincent Kapoor.” 

The skepticism and confusion was written all over him and Vincent could read it well. He gestured for the rooster to take the seat across from him. The bird did so in a manner that gave Vincent the impression that he was fighting the pain from more bodily injuries than his beak. “I ain’t goin’ ‘ack,” he said, sounding tired.

“No one expects you to get back into the ring, least of all my people,” Vincent said in a surefire manner. 

The other froze and stared at Vincent. A small flicker of his eyes told Vincent he was trying to pinpoint him from his memory. This amused him. “I’m sure our agency could take advantage of your physique in other ways, but as far as forcing you to fight other nameless roosters for money? That’s a bit beneath us,” Vincent reassured him. 

Soon, the rooster looked defeated. It was obvious that Vincent had him pinned, though clearly he had no idea how. “Ah yeah?” 

“Yes, of course. At FOWL we can give you resources for proper combat training, access to higher education, training in basic operations so you can do things you wouldn’t even believe. We can get you the top surgeons to give you the best prosthetic to help you recover from your tragic former life. Even a new name. There’s no limit to what we can provide,” Vincent told him. 

“Da ‘atch?” the other asked, radiating suspicion and a small amount of bitterness. It was clear now to Vincent that he didn’t appreciate being pitied. 

Vincent knew he was in the final stretch of his sales pitch and he had this rooster practically eating from the palm of his hand. If he played his cards right, he would have him. “We only ask for your undying loyalty. Pledge to us your body and mind and we’ll do everything we can to help you achieve everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

There was a long moment of silence as Vincent watched the rooster’s gears turn behind his eyes. Still, he waited patiently for an answer of some kind. 

“Eh, ‘eard it ‘efore,” the large bird said, shaking his head. 

Vincent was mildly surprised but not entirely unprepared for this outcome. “Then perhaps what we need is a symbol of good faith,” he proposed, “We can release you by the end of the day. Have you set up at your very own penthouse and scheduled for surgery a few days from now. As long as you sign this.”

The rooster watched carefully as Vincent slid over the documents he had in hand and the pen necessary for him to sign his entire life away. Then he locked eyes with Vincent. “...’at can you do ‘or me now?” he asked. 

Vincent was taken aback by this simple question. He had clearly never run into this kind of snag before. The majority simply took or rejected the offer as soon as he mentioned their potential freedom. He didn’t know how to respond, exactly. 

The prisoner took a small look at Vincent’s feet through the grate of the table they shared. “Yer shoes,” he proposed. 

Vincent blinked at him, absolutely bewildered. His shoes? He wanted his thirteen hundred dollar black and white oxford shoes? “Preposterous,” Vincent hissed, his stoic manner crumbling.

“No deal,” the rooster shrugged. 

Just like that, Vincent saw his window of opportunity closing rapidly. It was clear he had a singular choice to make; his shoes or failure. If he couldn’t get this simpleton on board for Black Heron it would reflect poorly on him and his success rate. 

The rooster nodded over to the guard who had brought him in initially. As soon as they closed the gap, Vincent broke. “Fine,” he said in a begrudging tone. Vincent propped up his feet and removed his expensive shoes.

“No shoelaces,” the guard barked.

Hearing that, Vincent removed and pocketed the shoelaces. Then he turned them over to the rooster. “They’re yours,” Vincent told him. 

The other bird looked incredibly pleased with himself. He quickly slipped out of the shoes that had been provided by the jail and adorned the others. “Not ‘ad,” he commented. 

“So do we have a deal?” Vincent asked. 

With a small shrug, the rooster picked up the pen and made an illegible scrawl on the dotted line. With that, he turned and walked away. Vincent could hear the loud click of his dress shoes echoing along the concrete walls, taunting him, before he was guided to the next room. 

Though he had lost his shoes, Vincent considered this a major success. This was what he was good at. He didn’t have any special mutations or any physical enhancements, he was simply a negotiator of lives for FOWL.

In all honesty, the mysterious rooster intrigued Vincent greatly; in an infuriating sort of way. Either he would make a fantastic agent, or a horrible spectacle. Only time would tell. 

Agent Steelbeak. 

When Vincent heard the name from Heron’s beak, he immediately knew who she was referring to. It had only been mere months since he had recruited the former cock-fighter, but Vincent hardly forgot a face. Especially one he had recruited; regardless if it had been altered in such an extreme manner.

Vincent turned the page on the file report and read briefly about his recent blunder. Stolen high-grade technology, nearly exposing a secret FOWL base and thousands of dollars in property damage. Reckless, sure, but it also managed to impress Vincent.

“You’re the one who recruited him,” Heron snapped, bringing Vincent out of his focus.

“Under your direct orders, Ma’am,” Vincent hissed back, closing the file with a loud and dramatic flair. Like hell he was going to allow her to shift the blame to him. “Besides, you were the one who was insistent on training him.”

“You wouldn’t understand. Spending just one day with that idiot would cause any decent agent to go absolutely insane,” Heron shrieked. 

After some thought, “I could take a crack at it,” Vincent replied.

Heron whirled around and looked at Vincent like she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. “ _You_ _?_ Train _him_ _?_ ” she asked. 

“I’ve trained some select recruits before. FOWL’s training process is not unfamiliar to me,” Vincent said.

“I have no earthly idea what’s possessed you, but if you want to take on that loose cannon, be my guest,” Heron replied.

After meeting with the higher ups, Vincent was able to secure Steelbeak as a student. At first, Steelbeak only came to Vincent’s luxury apartment in Saint Canard to humor the High Command. He had felt as though he had gone through enough training with Black Heron. To him, this was simply unnecessary. Steelbeak was sure that he would get the same lectures, the same tests and the same treatment. 

However, Vincent surprised him. 

“Agent Heron would like you to believe you’re stupid. If only so she can continue to believe she’s the smartest in the room. I, however, see a lot of potential in you,” Vincent had told him. 

It was the first time in Steelbeak’s life that someone said anything that nice to him. “Is that why you recruited me?” he asked, trying to save face. Steelbeak saw Vincent’s large tail flick upwards, perhaps it was a tell of some sort. He wasn’t quite sure, since the peafowl was still an enigma to him. 

“Make no mistake, I was under strict orders to bring you in. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t shown any promise,” Vincent said plainly. 

“Huh,” was all Steelbeak said in return. 

“I can help you unlock that potential, if you’ll allow me,” Vincent told him.

After a minute or two, Steelbeak gave Vincent a wicked smile, “Alright then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Part of the reason Vincent wasn’t a regular teacher for FOWL was simply because of his unorthodox training. He taught everything by himself for his students; some higher learning, the weapon training as well as combat training. Because Vincent was great at reading people, he was able to adapt to their learning style. And as it turned out, Steelbeak was very hands-on. 

Vincent believed a lot of what makes a villain was simply experience. It had to be both something inherent and learned. So Vincent allowed Steelbeak to go forth and bend the rules to his will. As long as no one important was being hurt in the process, he was fine with it. There was always something to learn, especially when sloppy mistakes were made. The way Vincent saw it was that they would both brave the repercussions. 

Because of this, the two of them became the occasional team. They worked harmoniously; with Vincent as the intuitive one and Stealbeak as the brawn. 

Steelbeak enjoyed Vincent’s manner of instruction so much that he found himself coming around to Vincent’s apartment a lot more often than he anticipated. It had started from a weekly basis to almost a daily basis. 

Specifically, Steelbeak’s absolute favorite time to come around was every Wednesday mid-afternoon. Around that time, Vincent would use his solitude to practice his violin. Sometimes Steelbeak would linger outside the door for long periods of time to hear whatever tune was pouring out of the apartment. Sometimes it was mellow, other times it was strong and passionate. Whatever it was, it always managed to always make Steelbeak smile. 

One particular Wednesday, the music grew louder than usual until it abruptly stopped. Seconds later, the door swung open and revealed Vincent, his long blue feathers tied back and his purple beak blushing slightly. “I can see the shadow of your feet on the other side of the door, you know,” Vincent said, “Besides, we’re both secret agents, there’s really no point in trying to sneak around.”

Steelbeak watched as Vincent moved aside and further into the apartment. “I didn’t wanna mess you up…” he admitted, softly. 

“You’re welcome to walk in on your own accord,” Vincent replied, turning on his heels and walking back to his music stand.

“I didn’t wanna stare, neither,” Steelbeak continued.

“Oh please,” Vincent rolled his eyes, “I have been performing my whole life. And have you even looked at me? I’m used to being stared at,” _I like the attention_ , was what he left unsaid. Then Vincent placed the violin underneath his long neck. Steelbeak was early, so Vincent wasn’t going to let him disrupt his routine. 

The tune was a lot different than when Steelbeak had approached the door. It was a lot more loose and solemn. Then, just as it had begun, the tempo increased dramatically. Steelbeak looked on in awe, feeling the beat course through him. It felt like something he could easily dance to at a moment’s notice. But the more he thought about it, the music slowed into a waltz.

Steelbeak watched intently, noting how his partner’s crest feathers bobbed and swayed as he continued to play passionately. There was something about watching him play that absolutely hypnotized Steelbeak. 

This was something new to Steelbeak, but not entirely unwelcome for Vincent. He hadn’t performed for an audience of one in a very, very long time. It was invigorating for him to become the center of someone’s undivided attention. He wished it could have lasted forever. However, time was not on his side. So Vincent slowed his last crescendo and removed the bow from the instrument. 

Steelbeak desperately wanted to clap or at least congratulate him on the performance, but he was simply stunned. 

“Enough of that, it’s time for your training,” Vincent said as he placed the violin back into its luxurious case. 

“Right. Oh hey, uh, before we get into that… I was wondering if after our session today we could maybe go out an’ get a drink?” Steelbeak asked, rubbing the back of his hulking neck. 

Vincent blinked at him, slightly confused. “I have an array of alcoholic drinks here. Besides that’s quite a bit… unprofessional, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.

Steelbeak looked frustrated and dejected, “Listen, Vince, as much as I love spendin’ time here with you, I thought we could go out for once. Like, out on a real date?” 

Horror struck through Vincent the moment he heard those words ringing through his head. “A- a _date_ _?_ ” he asked, desperate for clarification.

“Yeah I mean, we are ‘partners’ and all, right?” Steelbeak asked.

A blush raced across Vincent’s purple beak and his feathers stood on end. This was the moment he realized that Steelbeak had completely misconstrued the definition of ‘partners’ when they had been assigned to go on numerous missions together. 

Sure, they had their moments. Close quarters during stealth missions, holding his gigantic arms while checking his posture while he held a gun, the playful banter, the sparing, a slight brush of their feathers as they exchanged paperwork… but it shouldn’t have been anything new to Vincent. So why…? Why was he so aggravated? He found himself so flustered just thinking about someone who should have been nothing more than a student.

Had he… always had these feelings? 

Vincent was so lost in his head, he instinctively flared his tail feathers the moment he saw Steelbeak move closer to him. “Whoa! Hello? Vince?” Steelbeak asked. 

Every bone in Vincent’s body was trying to tell himself to stop everything while he could. To end the misconception and nip the relationship in the bud. After being such a model employee and faithful servant of FOWL, Vincent didn’t want an interpersonal relationship mucking up his record. Still, it almost felt like he would be some kind of hypocrite if he didn’t go through with this. All this time he had been telling Steelbeak to follow his own path and to not be afraid to break some rules. They had already had so many misadventures. 

Vincent had a clear choice to make as he saw this new window of opportunity closing before his very eyes. 

Steelbeak saw Vincent coming at him with a scowl and a shaking hand. For a brief moment, he thought he would have to block a punch of some kind. But instead, Vincent grabbed the lapels of Steelbeak’s jacket and pulled him into a deep kiss. The metal beak was cold and uninviting, but after a moment or two Steelbeak’s arms wrapped around him. 

The moment Vincent pulled away he started to laugh. Steelbeak was plain confused. “So… is that a yes?” he asked.

“Yes, you cock,” Vincent said. 

The two of them snuck around, but this was one stealth mission they failed time and time again. Everyone who was anyone in FOWL knew they were together. Despite Vincent repeatedly denying it.

It was Steelbeak’s idea to get married. They had only been together for less than five months. It seemed awfully sudden, but with the fast-paced lifestyle of being renowned terrorists, there was no time like the present. The proposal had been simultaneously clumsy and cheesy. 

After a successful mission, a drunken bender and a night on the town, Vincent had found the ring on the end of a shoe string on a pair of oxford shoes. He hadn’t even noticed until mid-day when the ring got caught on something, causing Vincent to fall on his ass in front of High Command. Thinking he was being smooth, Steelbeak untied the ring and proposed right then and there. 

The big wedding was, again, Steelbeak’s idea. Vincent wanted something subtle and quick. Preferably, in a courtroom and out with all the necessary paperwork. But Steelbeak insisted on inviting nearly every single person who worked with FOWL. Granted, it wasn’t the best idea to gather the entirety of a shadow terrorist organization under one roof. But once they planned to have it on a deserted island, in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, they hardly ran into any problems at all. They had gotten a large yacht as a wedding present from High Command. 

Vincent didn’t particularly hate Saint Canard, but he never felt at home in it either. So he just went along with it when Steelbeak insisted on setting up a new home for the both of them in the city. Without wanting to argue about it, he let Steelbeak design their new apartment. 

There was only one thing in Vincent’s life where he felt like he had control. It was his exotic pet panda whom he had named “Pookie”. He had others to take care of the animal, of course. But for the most part, the bear was the perfect companion. 

As Vincent should have guessed, there came a moment in their lives where Steelbeak had clearly grown beyond Vincent’s training. The two started to argue more than they would collaborate. Steelbeak was insistent on his decisions being the right ones. It almost felt like everything was back at square one. Instead of being a team player and thinking for the good of FOWL, Steelbeak had other ideas. 

Admittedly, Steelbeak was a lot better at getting what he wanted. Thanks to Vincent’s training, he knew how to play the villain game a lot better than most agents in the field. Deep down, Vincent knew he would regret that sooner or later.

More and more, their work bled directly into their marital life. There were days where Steelbeak simply couldn’t leave things on their missions. Vincent was growing more and more tired of the arguing.

The divorce was Vincent’s idea. It was the one thing Steelbeak didn’t argue with him about. A small part of Vincent wished he had. He wanted someone to talk him back into it. To reassure him that they could go back to simpler times. 

In pure sociopathic fashion, as some form of twisted revenge, Steelbeak took Pookie in the divorce. He hadn’t even wanted the pet panda in the first place. Yet there were no more negotiations to be made. The animal was exotic, after all, and Vincent didn’t want to risk completely losing him. The split only took a few weeks to settle. 

For the sake of his mental health, Vincent moved out and away from Saint Canard. He had been back to recruitment duties in other locations where FOWL was present. He deemed that the further away he was from Steelbeak, the better. He was positively done with that awful, mutant-filled, atrocious, scum-infested armpit of a city. 

As it turned out, however, Saint Canard was far from done with him.

**Author's Note:**

> A little blurb I wrote in response to an ask to I got on tumblr about how my OC Vincent and Steelbeak become "involved". Vincent will re-appear in my "Saint Canard Cryptids" series! So keep an eye out for that, if you'd like. Thanks for reading!


End file.
